


The Dinner

by nvaleintern



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Gay Character, Dinner, Gay, Gay Sex, M/M, Making Out, Oral Sex, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Sex and Chocolate, Sexy Sherlock, Smut, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-01-18 04:36:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1415335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nvaleintern/pseuds/nvaleintern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg was surprised about Mycroft inviting him to dinner at his house. The DI knew Sherlocks brother but only slightly, and the only time they really spent time with eachother was for the past three weeks, when his division had to help Mycroft find a russian mafia boss that was hiding somewhere in London, and since Sherlock was dead, the inspector was the only one left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for deciding to read my fic!   
>  Friendly reminder that you don't have to be a registered user in order to leave kudos on my work. It'd really help me out, thanks!

Lestrade knocked three times and waited for an answer. He wanted to look good for Mycroft, so he wore his best suit, and the only suit that was clean and not crinkled. 

He never thought of himself as gay. He liked women and men. He even had a few boyfriends in college. Sexuality isn´t something you should bother with, it´s just there and you should just be happy about it, and not overthink why you´re gay or not. At least that was what Greg always told himself.

 

Mycroft opened the door and by the look on his face, he probably didn´t expect Greg to be ten minutes before his time.

"Oh Greg, hello. Come on in, I´m still preparing the pasta and the chicken marsala." 

Greg entered the apartment. 

"No problem, I was a bit early I guess. My watch is broken." 

He looked at Mycroft, who closed the door and went back to the kitchen. He wore a brown suit and a kitchen apron with hearts on it.

Greg had to surpress a giggle. He took off his black coat and hang it up on the hallstand. He heard Mycroft saying from the kitchen: "You can sit down on the couch if you want to. It´ll take me a few minutes."

But instead of going into the living room, Lestrade went into the kitchen and sat down on a small chair behind the kitchen counter. 

It smelled like home for Lestrade. He loved to watch his mother cook and did it every day after he came back from school. He sat there in their kitchen, talking with her, helping her get through her divorce with his father. If he would be home the day the robbers murdered her in the apartment. If he would be there then...

The DI pushed the sad thought away and stared at Sherlocks brother. He noticed the concentrated expression on his face, his hands choosing the exact spices.

No, stop it, you won´t fuck your best friends brother, he thought. Your dead best friends brother.

"So, have you some new information about the guy...what was his name again?", asked Greg.

Mycroft looked at him: "Vladislaw Biryukow, yes, that´s one reason why I invited you. We found his location but haven´t done anything yet. We don´t quite know what he plans to do with the bombs, but we have to act as fast as possible to get him." 

The alarm went off, telling Mycroft that the chicken was ready. He took it out of the oven and put it on the counter. "I think we´re going to catch him next week, and we need your divisions help for it." He took a knife and cut the chicken into equal slices.

Greg watched the other mans arm muscles flexing, as he was cutting the flesh. Then he realized that the he was asked something.

"What? Yes, of course."

"Great." Said Mycroft taking two places out of the kitchen cupboard and placing them on the counter. "So?" he looked at Greg. "Sit down at the table in the dining hall." 

Lestrade blushed. Stupid. You should listen to him and not look at his body.

He sat down at the prepared table. There were candles, wine from 1891 and even the fireplace was lit, giving everything a warm and cosy feeling. 

After a moment of silence and waiting, Mycroft entered the room with two plates in his hands, on them the chicken marsala. He put one plate in front of the DI and one in front of his chair. Then he opened the bottle of wine and poured it into two wineglasses.

 

Both finished their chicken very fast and Mycroft refilled their glasses.

"Mmmh Mycroft, I didn´t know that you can cook so well." 

"Thank you Greg, when I was little my mother showed me how to cook. She was happy to have at least one normal child," he took a sip of his wine.  
Lestrade saw a bit of the red liquid dribbling down Mycrofts chin, and thought about how bad he would like to lick it away, to taste those lips.

Stop it!, he thought again covering his crotch with his shirt, as he felt his penis getting harder.

"So what is the second reason you invited me over?"

"What?", Mycroft raised one eyebrow.

"In the kitchen you said that the mafia boss was just ´one of the reasons you invited me here´ ."

"Oh yes. The second reason is simple. I enjoy your presence and I like you."

Lestrade chocked on the wine he was drinking and started coughing up. "Wh-what?"

"I like you Greg. But let me bring the second dish, then we can talk, okay?" 

Lestrade nodded and Sherlocks brother left the room with two empty plates.

Lestrade likes me? How can he like me? When did Mycroft like anyone, ever?And is he even gay? Well, he never had a wife or a girlfriend but that doesn´t mean he´s gay. He had so many questions but no anwsers. 

 

Mycroft came back with two plates of pasta, tomato sauce and oregano on top. He almost reached the table when he suddenly tripped, both plates flying in the DIs direction,.

Everything that was on them landed on his body, staining his whole suit and face.

"I am so so sorry." Mycroft started whiping the sauce off Lestrades jacket , but ended up smearing it around, covering more fabric with it. Lestrade could see that Mycroft was red, out of embarassment.

"It´s okay, really. Where is your bathroom?", asked Greg, pushing away the chair and standing up.

"The ha- hallway down and t- then turn right." 

He´s so embarassed that he even started to stutter. Oh, cute My. 

"Can I maybe take a shower? So I can clean up this mess."

"Of course. There´s a clean bathrobe as well so when you finish, you can wear it. Leave your clothes there so they can dry. I bring you fresh towels later." Mycroft knelt down and started collecting the shards of the broken plates.

"I´ll be back in a few minutes," announced Greg, patting Mycroft on the shoulder and leaving him in the dining hall.

 

On the way to the bathroom, Greg noticed how clean and sterile the house was. Nothing was covered in dust, every book perfectly in a shelf, not a single picture wasn´t framed. It was a complete opposite to what his small apartment looked like: messy, dirty, smelly. 

But the DI didn´t really bother. After his wife left him, he fully concentrated on his work. Now he just spent time at the police department, in a fast food restaurant or in bars. Sometimes he doesn´t even sleep in his apartment but in his office and if he needs a comfy place he can as well find a one-night stand.

Finally he reached the bathroom. It wasn´t too big, but a mirror on the wall let it seem bigger.

Greg took off his black jacket and threw it into the sink, pouring water over it. His shirt and pants followed. He cleaned his face removing the tomato sauce. 

After his clothes where mostly stain-free, he hang them up to dry. 

The thought of being alone in Mycrofts bathroom, standing there, only in his white socks and his dark green underwear, got him excited.

He started imagining Mycroft coming in and touching his hairy chest. Slowly he took off his underwear, his erected penis raising up.

Now he was completely naked, standing on the cold tiled floor, thinking about Mycroft. He looked into the mirror, watching his own body.

Greg was confident about his looks. He had a bit of a belly but he thought it made him look better. The DI loved his pepper chest and stomach hair. Some younger guys and girls even called him daddy sometimes because of it.

His eyes wandered to his penis. In his fully erected state, it was seven inch big, surrounded with a thick bush. 

On his way to the shower he saw a blue dirty-clothes basket. A thought crossed his mind.

Slowly he opened the basket, throwing out the clothes, trying to find what he was looking for. And then, at the bottom, he found them: Mycroft Holmes boxers.

Gregs heart started beating faster and faster as he burried his face in his friends white underwear, drinking in the manly scent of piss and sweat.

He started stroking his cock, slowly pulling his foreskin back and forth. He looked into the mirror, watching himself as he masturbated. A moan came out of him, muffeled by the fabric in front of his mouth.

Suddenly Mycroft came in: " I´m here becaus-"

He saw Lestrades reflection in the mirror, and his underwear in his hands. Before the other one could do something or even turn around, Mycroft dropped the towels and hugged the DI from behind. 

He laid his hands on the naked chest of Greg, feeling his chesthair, kissing his neck. 

"Wh- what are you doing?", asked the startled Lestrade. "My... Mycro-" He dropped the underwear and embraced Mycrofts head, pressing his face against his neck.

Mycroft turned his naked friend around and looked him in the face. His pupils were dilated, his chest rose and fall, filled with excitement. 

He pushed his friend back against the cold, tiled wall, his face only an inch away. Gregs cock pressing against his suit. 

The DI could noticed the smell of wine on Mycroft and pushed his face forward. Their lips touched. Then he opened his mouth slightly, leaving space for Mycrofts tongue. 

They shared a passionate kiss until Mycroft stopped to pull out his erected dick. 

Lestrade knelt down, embracing the shaft with his mouth, deepthroating the whole ten inch package. 

Mycroft moaned and unbottoned his shirt, throwing it on the clothespile in the bathroom.  
"Fuck Greg, you´re good!"

"I have experience," answered Greg, smirking. 

He licked up and down on Mycrofts penis, trying to taste every single bit of it. "Can you fuck me?", he asked.

Mycroft pushed him away, pulling him up. He leaned in and whispered into his ear, with a low husky voice: "Not yet. Go into my bedroom."

 

Lestrade got comfy on his friends king size bed and waited patiently. After a moment Mycroft entered the room, now completely naked, holding a little box in his hand.  
He put the box on a bedside table and took four ropes out of it. Greg smiled and put his hand at the end of the bed, ready to get tied up. 

"Not like that, on your stomach", ordered Mycroft. 

Greg liked dominant guys, so he did like he was commanded to and lay down on his stomach, his cock pressing against the satin bedsheets. 

Mycroft tied up the DIs hands and legs, leaving Gregs body fully to his own use.

He took a bottle of chocolate sirup out of the box, smearing the brown liquid on Gregs back and filling up his arse cheeks with the delicious sauce. After that he put it back into the box.

"Mmmh yes Mycroft." whispered Greg, as the other mans tongue touched his skin. 

Mycroft licked down Lestrades spine, tasting the chocolate sauce, mixed with sweat. Then he bit into Gregs asscheeks, bringing him to cry out his name.

He grinned and bit him again, this time even harder, leaving a mark of his teeth. 

He burried his face in the DIs ass licking out the sirup out of his bum hair.

After he licked it clean, he started breathing against it, teasing his lover, leaving him to want more.

"For fucks sake you bastard just fuck my ass!", screamed Lestrade.

Mycroft didn´t answer. Instead his tongue slowly entered Gregs anus.

"Yes, go on!"

Mycroft smiled and pushed his tongue in and out, getting faster. He moved it in slow cirles, hearing Lestrades muffeled moans.

He kissed the hairy hole, tasting the rest of the sauce mixed with sweat.

His kisses wandered away from the arse hole, landing on Gregs tights, leaving lovebites. 

"You taste so good Greg," whispered Mycroft, kissing up and down Gregs legs. 

Then he opened the drawer and took out strawberry lube. He smeared it on his ten inches and on his fingers. 

Mycroft pushed the fingers inside the DI, preparing him. 

"Oh ye- e- es My- Mycroft," gasped the Inspector.

When Holmes finished the preperation, he licked up the edible lube. "Mmmh."

He laid down on Gregs body, pressing his own weight against him, feeling his sweat, and the rising of Lestrades body. His cock pressing against the mans asscheeks. 

With slow circle movements his glanse entered Gregs hole. "Is it okay if I fuck you bareback?"

"Ye- yes, just please do it now. Please!" 

Mycroft loved the way Greg wanted him, and he would love to tease him more but he wanted to be inside him so badly, to fuck the soul out of him.

Without hesitating he pushed his penis inside the manhole, bringing Lestrade to moan. 

The man wanted to turn around and kiss Mycroft but the ropes held him back. "Oh fuck!"

Holmes got his rythm and was riding his lover, hitting his prostate and kissing his back. Their moans filled the whole room, getting them more and more excited. 

"Oh- Oh, OH, yo- o- o- uh bastard! Fill me- e- up!", screamed Greg pushing his ass up and down with the rythm of Mycroft, driving him crazy. 

Mycroft bit into Gregs neck, brutally thrusting the mans ass. "Fu- uck yeah Greg!", he cried out as his whole body jerked in orgasm, while he shot his load inside Lestrade. "Fu- uck!"

The warm feeling of cum brought the DI over the edge and he couldn´t hold it anymore. His sperm stained the bedsheets as he screamed Mycrofts name.

The other man took his penis out, and licked away the cum that dribbled out of his lovers bum hole, tasting his own sperm. 

He opened the ropes and lay down beside Greg. 

"It was great," whispered Lestrade against Mycrofts chest. "It was fantastic."

They fell asleep, listening to eachothers breaths.


	2. The morning after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg leaves Mycroft´s place and gets a confusing text message from Watson.

The first thing Greg noticed after he woke up was that he wasn´t in his apartment. The second thing was that an arm was wrapped around him and made it impossible for him to leave. 

Somehow he managed to put Mycrofts arm aside. In the bathroom he looked into the mirror. He was looking miserable. His hair was ruffled and his eyes had bags under them, he won´t even start on the headache he had.

He picked up his dirty clothes and put on the stained white shirt. Luckily his black jacket was clean so nobody on the street would notice how awful he looks like. Greg already feared that it might look like he was going home after a one night stand, which he did but that doesn´t mean that someone else should know that as well.

At least it was raining, so the stains were covered a bit.

He was about to open the door to his apartment and then he realized that his keys weren´t in his pants.

_They probably fell out when I took them off. Note to myself: Next time you´re about to fuck someone check first that your keys didn´t fall out of your trousers. What the bloody hell am I supposed to do now? ___

__The ringing of his phone snapped him out of his thoughts._ _

__It was John. After Sherlock died John was a wreck. Greg had spent many nights drinking with John and talking about bloody Holmes._ _

__The message on his mobile phone took him off guard. "He´s back. JW."_ _

__Did Watson drink too much again?_ _

__He was about to run out the building and drive over to John´s and his girlfriends new place, just to check on him, but when he turned around he bumped into somebody._ _

__Mycroft._ _

__"Oh, Mycroft, hello. I´m sorry I had to left early and -"_ _

__"Don´t. Don´t make up apologies, I just came here to give you those. It´ll be hard to get inside the apartment without the keys." Mycroft stretchered out his hand, a bundle of keys glistened in his hand._ _

__Greg saw the hurt in Mycroft eyes and he Holmes had all rights to be hurt. Lestrade didn´t even left a note. Stupid._ _

__The DI took the keys with one hand and Mycrofts hand with the other. He stood on the tips of his toes and kissed the man on his lips. "Come with me.", he whispered._ _

__Lestrade opened the door and kissing they stumbled into the apartment._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Johnlock in the next chapter, from John´s pov.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John comes back to Bakerstreet to pick up a few boxes and then move in with Mary but what awaits him in the apartment is beyond his imagination.

John only came to 221B to take the last few boxes he packed a few days ago. Mary finally managed to persuade him into moving in with her, so througout the last months he had started packing his stuff, and Sherlocks stuff, and most of the time he ended up crying himself to sleep, laying on the floor surrounded by Holmes papers, clothes and weird experiments.

Mrs Hudson had always woke him up, gave him a coffee and sat there with him, talking about Sherlock and how much both of them miss him. She had even suggested to help him or do it on her own but he denied. It wouldn´t feel right to not do it by himself. Sometimes he´d invited Greg over, but he didn´t let him touch anything either.

When John entered the house it was filled with silence, nobody was talking or screaming, nobody was playing the violin. Mrs Hudson was probably out, maybe it was better this way. 

After every step Watson took, his heart dropped a little further down. It was the last time that he will climb those stairs, the last time he will enter this apartment and soon everything that was theirs will be someone else´s.

He opened the door and nearly fainted at the sight of something... somebody that was standing in front of the big window, looking out at the streets, with the back turned to John.

It was him. John would always recognize the man he learned to love, but lost him too early to confess it. But it couldn´t be him, he was dead. He jumped down a bloody roof. He can´t be alive.

"Who are you? What are you doing in this apartment?" 

Slowly the tall man turned around and John´s heart started pounding against his chest. It was hard for him to breathe, as if the room had lost it´s air.

"Not dead." said Sherlock with his deep voice, the sound that John had missed for so long.

Thousand emotions were filling up John´s brain. Anger, happiness, confusion, hunger, lust.

Holmes took a few steps into his direction but John launched forward and after a few big steps he was at him. He pushed the detective hard against the window, locking him in with his hands underpinned at the glass.

"John Watson, what happened?" It wasn´t a question he wanted to hear an answer for and John didn´t even know if he could give him one. 

"Shut your bloody mouth." was the only thing he managed to say before his mouth crashed against Sherlock´s. 

Watson felt the man´s attempts to pull away but he was pressed against the window and there was no escape for him. He was John´s now.

John´s tongue forced itself into Sherlock´s mouth, devouring his taste. The taste that he thought he would never experience. 

The tall man hesitantly moved his tongue against John´s, playing with him, driving him mad. 

Watson pulled down Sherlock´s long coat and his scarf, kissing his neck, biting the translucent skin. He heard the other ones moans and gasps. "John."

John ripped open Holmes white shirt, buttons falling onto the ground. His teeth clenched themselves around Sherlock´s nipple, his fingertips touching his white skin. His hard stomach, his arms. 

He felt long thin hands pulling at his coat, trying to take it off and he groaned desperately. He helped him out and took off the coat and his jumper alone, revealing his skin. "You are so beautiful John Watson." whispered the man against his ear. 

Sherlock pinched John´s nipples with his fingers, trying to imitate John´s actions. It felt so good to be touched by the man he thought he had lost.

"I want you now." moaned John, his fingers fumbling with the button of Sherlock´s trousers. He opened it with one hand and, his own button with the other.

Both of them took off their own pants, to make it faster. John couldn´t even describe the way he felt in that moment. The need he felt for Sherlock.

He dropped on his knees and pushed his face into Sherlock´s crotch, sniffing in the smell of him. His saliva soaked the fabric of Holmes white briefs, the taste of the man’s pre-cum filled his mouth and he moaned. 

His hands pulled down the fabric and the ten inch long cock jumped into his face. Desperately his lips got around it, swallowing inch after inch. He felt like he might puke, he started gagging and chocking on it but he didn´t care. Everything he wanted was him and nothing else mattered. 

He heard Sherlock moan and he felt his long fingers running through John´s blond hair.

"I want to fill you up." gasped the tall man, his hands flexing against the wall.

John stood up on his toes so his mouth reached Sherlock´s ear. He whispered "I want that you fuck me bloody."

John ran to one of the boxes he didn´t take yet and took out a bottle of lube. He squirted a bit on Sherlock´s hand and a bit on his own. 

First he rubbed his portion of lube on Sherlock´s dick, with slow movements, careful so that the man won´t cum yet. Then he bent over, spreading his hairy hole in Holmes direction. "Prepare me a bit with your fingers." he commanded.

Watson heard another squirt and then he felt a finger touching the sensitive skin around his anus. Very slowly Sherlock´s long, thin finger entered John´s hole. Uncontrollable whimpers escaped his throat. Two more fingers joined the first one and brought Watson to the point where he couldn´t just whimper. He screamed Sherlock´s name.

His hole felt weirdly warm, and hurt but after Sherlock pushed his fingers in and out a few times, pain transformed to pleasure. "Okay, I´m ready.", gasped John and stood up, facing the tall man again. 

He took Holmes long fingers that were in his ass just a minute ago, and licked them clean before letting Sherlock touch him again.

The man placed his hands on Johns inner sides of his thighs and picked him up. Watson was surprised by the man´s strength. 

He wrapped his arms around Sherlock´s neck and his legs around his hips, so now he was hanging in the air, supported just by his lovers arms. He kissed him.

Slowly Sherlock sank John body down his shaft. The man’s hole swallowed inch for inch of Sherlock´s penis.

John moaned and grunted against Holmes lips, jumping up and down the man´s cock. "I missed you so much Sherlock." He kissed his neck. "Never do that to me again." Sherlock bit down on John´s throat, leaving behind a hickey. "Neve- ahh!" 

A sensation ran through John´s body, a feeling of pure joy and pleasure, almost like an orgasm but different. Better. 

Every time Sherlock´s glans hit his prostate the feeling got stronger until the only things he was capable of doing was moaning and moving his ass up and down. 

"John!" screamed the deep husky voice, and John felt the man´s body jerk in pleasure when he filled up Watson´s hole. "Aaah yes."

Their tongues intertwined once again, John felt the warm juice trickle out of his ass and dribbling onto the wooden floor. 

Sherlock took his penis out of his lovers arse and let go of him. They hugged eachother and slumped down onto the carpet.

Afterwards, when they were both laying on the floor, his head resting on Sherlock´s chest who had fallen asleep just a few moments ago, John realised two things. First of all, he was fucked Sherlock Holmes and second of all he was fucked by Sherlock Holmes against the window, and even though it was late in the evening everyone could see them.

He smiled and closed his eyes, not worrying about the future, because his friend was alive and was here to protect him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I´m really sorry if there are some grammatical errors but it was late at night when I´ve proof read it. I hope you enjoy it.


	4. What now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their two "one night stands" Mycroft and Greg decide to define their relationship.

"Hello love."

Mycroft was sitting at the table, scrambled eggs and a buttered toast in front of him, a newspaper in his hand. He looked so lovely and peaceful, as if the situation was nothing new to him. Greg could get used to it.

Greg’s hair was damp from the shower and a white towel was wrapped around his hips. Mycroft as well, wore nothing more than his green boxer briefs and a smile on his face.

"Hello My." He kissed Mycroft on the cheek and went into the kitchen to take some eggs out of the frying pan. "Last night was really great you know? I didn´t even know a human could do such things with cream and yoghurt." he said, and sat down at the chair across from his lover. 

The scrambled eggs were really delicious. Yet another reason why Mycroft should stay forever in his life.

"You don´t know half the things I can do Greg." Mycroft ate the rest of his food and pushed the plate forward, so he could rest his elbows on the table. "So?" He took the Inspectors free hand into his own, his thumb caressing the top of it. "What are we going to do now?"

"If you want to, we can have sex again but let me-"

Mycroft laughed. "No, I mean, _what now _? How is our relationship going forward? Are we even in a relationship or was it just a one night stand?"__

__Greg pushed his plate away as well. Suddenly he had no appetite anymore. “You know My, I think if you sleep with someone two times in a row you can´t call it a one night stand anymore.”_ _

__Mycroft took his hand away from Lestrade´s. “You know what I mean Greg.” The smile vanished from his face. It was emotionless, even cold._ _

__“Yes.” sighed the inspector. How was he supposed to answer this? He didn´t even know what to do himself. He hadn´t slept with a man for years and his last boyfriend was at his second year in college just before he met his long relationship girlfriend. But he can´t say all this to Mycroft. “I don´t know.”_ _

__Mycroft looked hurt, like a puppy that runs to you because it wants to get cuddled but instead it gets kicked. “If you want to end all this then please, just say it. I will understand it and respect your decision. It´s not like it´s the first time I get rejected.”_ _

__Ouch. That hurt Lestrade more than Mycroft just leaving. He pitied him, and he didn´t want to._ _

__“Mycroft, when I say I don´t know, I don´t mean I don´t want you.” Greg took Mycroft´s hand in both of his own, and placed a kiss on top of it. “But I know that I want you to be with me, that when I woke up this morning the first thing I thought about was you, and when I saw that you weren´t there I feared that maybe this time it was just a one time thing for you. But it´s not for me, I guess.”_ _

__The words escaped Greg´s mouth before he could do anything about it, and they were true. He didn´t want Mycroft to leave. He felt happy around him, like he finally found a real purpose in the ordinariness of his life._ _

__Greg leaned over the table and pulled Holmes in for a kiss. Their lips met eachother, exchanging soft, slow kisses. Both of the DI´s hands were running through his lover´s hair, while he was whispering inbetween their kiss. “I love you. I want you Mycroft.”_ _

__The inspector pushed the plates from the table, and as the porcelain and glass crashed onto the floor, he climbed on top of the wooden table and spread his body out on it, leaving his towel on his chair._ _

__Lemon scent filled the room as Greg tilted his head to the right, just too see Mycroft struggling with taking off his underwear._ _

__Finally Sherlock´s older brother managed to remove the fabric and after he climbed on top of the table, he let himself down on Greg´s shaft. The farther the DI got inside of Mycroft, the louder the man panted and moaned._ _

__This time it felt different than yesterday or the day before that. It was more intimate, sensual... better._ _

__To see Mycroft riding him, gently rising up and down, throwing his head back, enjoying the sensation, running his nails across Greg´s hairy chest. It was something he never felt before._ _

__“I want you to stay with me forever Mycroft” he gasped, closing his eyes. He put his hands on Mycroft´s hips to steady him. “Stay with me forever.”_ _

__One hand left the hip and gripped Mycroft´s hard cock, jerking him off._ _

__“I” Greg´s grip got harder “Love” His motion got faster “You” Mycroft groaned and he shot his cum all over Greg._ _

__The DI closed his eyes and let the overwhelming feeling swallow him, and soon enough his juice filled up his lover´s anus._ _

__Mycroft fell down on top of Greg. His sweaty body was pressing Greg against the wood. The inspector could hear his boyfriends heartbeat, his slow breaths. “We should probably clean up this mess.” he whispered against the top of Mycroft´s head._ _

__Mycroft kissed his chest and said “Can we stay a bit like this?”_ _

__Greg smiled and sighed “Yes.”_ _


	5. Don´t leave me alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wakes up after he slept with Sherlock. He tries to get some answers he was always waiting to get.

The first thing that John did when he woke up, is text Greg. He completely forgot to contact somebody and tell them that Sherlock is _not dead._

It still felt like a dream for him and he had to pinch himself every few minutes just to make sure that he, in fact, was not dreaming, and that the tall man was lying next to him, smelling like sex and his cologne.

Sherlock´s translucent skin showed his veins, and John ran his fingers over the man´s rising and falling chest, watching Sherlock´s face. His dark curls were messy, and his lips slightly parted. He just wanted to kiss him.

Coffee was already at the small table, filling the room with its scent. But coffee on the table could only mean that Mrs Hudson was here and that she had seen Sherlock. Not only Sherlock, but Sherlock _with John_.

John could feel the redness flushing his cheeks, as he carefully stood up, trying not to wake up his friend.

Only the ticking of a clock, the slow breath of Sherlock and raindrops were audible, and for the first time in a very long while John felt at home again.

He put on his underwear and a blue gown that was in one of the card boxes he wanted to take to Mary. _Mary. Bloody hell, what will I tell her?_

For a moment he considered to put on the rest of his clothes and leave, but a look on Sherlock changed his mind. He couldn´t help himself but to kiss the man at least once.

With a coffee cup in his hands and the taste of Sherlock’s lips on his own, he made his way down to Mrs Hudson´s apartment.

John knocked three times waited politely, trying to cover up as much of his body as the gown allowed him. He heard the old lady saying “Just a second, I´m coming.”

She opened the door, water dripping of her hands. She was probably washing the dishes. John coughed and said “Hello Mrs Hudson.”

She grinned a cheeky grin and John blushed, trying to cover up even more. She definitely knew what happened last night. “Oh hello John, long time no see.” Mrs Hudson hugged him and stepped aside so he could walk in. “Come in, I just made breakfast.”

The old lady´s apartment always smelled like fresh pancakes and tea, and it was no surprise that there were pancakes and tea on the table.

The woman went back to wash the dishes. “Sit down John, I made pancakes. I wanted to bring some of those to you, when you both wake up.”

“Thank you Mrs Hudson.” He took a bite and felt his taste buds explode. Nobody could make such good tasting pancakes as Mrs Hudson.

“Did you two have fun last night?”

He chocked on his tea, and coughed some of it up,the warm liquid dribbling down his chin on his bare legs.

“Oh I´m sorry dear, maybe I shouldn´t ask.”

He wiped it away with a kerchief and put his cup aside. “No, it´s okay Mrs Hudson, really. Yes, we had _fun._  But, did you know that hmm, he wasn´t _bloody dead_?” He probably sounded more angry than he intended to, but he couldn´t stop himself. In fact, he was angry. Mainly at Sherlock but also at Mrs Hudson because the only thing she answered was “Oh yes, my dear.”

He put the pancakes aside, suddenly loosing his appetite, and as he was about to answer, probably even shout, Mrs Hudson went on. “But not from the beginning, oh no. He walked in here two days ago and almost scared me to death. He said that nobody knew he was alive but now he wants to come back. He even rented the place again.” She turned around to look at John, smiling her broadest smile. “And then he asked if you still live here. I said that you don´t but everything else he should ask you himself. I said to him that you´ll come the next day to pick up your things and he asked me if I could leave the house for a bit. Which is rude, considered that it is _my_ house. But I couldn´t say no, not to Sherlock.”

He didn´t know what to say. He had so many questions but only so little answers and the only person who could give them to him was laying on the floor, sleeping. “Did he tell you how he... did it?”

Mrs Hudson wiped her hands dry and sat down across from John. She took his hands in hers, as if she knew how betrayed he felt. “He said he had to do it. He said he had to eradicate Moriarty´s network. He wanted to protect us John. He wanted to protect you.”

He jerked his hands free. “Well, faking his death and lying to me for two years isn´t really _protecting_ me.”

John stood up and left Mrs Hudson alone in the kitchen. He felt bad to snap at her like this, like it was her fault.

When he walked into the living room, Sherlock was gone. At first he feared that Sherlock might run off again, leave him alone for two more years, to eradicate a different mafia network, but he heard noise coming from the kitchen.

It was Sherlock banging the cupboards open and shut. “Where is the coffee?!”

He was naked and if John wouldn´t be angry at him, he would fall all over the tall man, and let himself get fucked bloody over the kitchen table.

“We don´t have coffee Sherlock. Nobody was buying anything for this apartment because nobody is living here anymore.”

“Well I am living here. And you are.”

“Actually I´m not.”

At that Sherlock turned around to look at him.

“What do you mean, you are not? Of course you are. I´m back so you´ll live with me.”

Yesterday, after they were done, John had thought about moving back in with Sherlock, but not because Sherlock demands it but because he asks him to.

“No, especially not if you won´t ask me. You say it as if nothing had changed. It´s been _two years_ Sherlock. TWO YEARS!” John screamed so loud that even Mrs Hudson could hear him, but he hoped that she´d stay out of this.

Sherlock took a few steps in his direction. _No,I can´t let him touch me because when he does so, I will give in and I will do everything he wants me to do_. “You think that it was easy for me to live without you Sherlock?” Sherlock moved closer, John took steps back. “You think it was easy for Mrs Hudson, for Molly, for Greg? It wasn´t easy for any of us. I was talking to _your tombstone_.” John´s back hit the window. He couldn´t move further away from Sherlock. “And besides I have Mary. I love her.”

At that Sherlock stopped walking. “Do you really love her?” John hesitated.

He loved Mary, at least he thought that´s how love felt and that sleeping with her only didn´t feel that great because he was depressed after Sherlock´s death, but was that the reason?

The consulting detective took John´s silence as a no and quickly closed the gap between them, kissing John on his forehead. “I love you.” On his cheeks. “I love you.” And on his mouth. “I love you.”

John was breathing hard, his hands on Sherlock’s hips. He realized that he was crying. “I love you too, but you can´t do this to me again. I think I want to come back to 221B Bakerstreet but not without you.”

“Never again.” whispered Sherlock “Do you want to take a ride again?” John´s penis instantly started getting hard. “Yes, but this time in bed. My back is killing me.” Sherlock laughed and picked John up, carrying him into his bedroom.


	6. Rhymes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Sherlock thinks everything will be alright now, things get out of control.

The sound of the violin was finally ringing through the apartment again. Sherlock never realized how much he actually missed walking around and just playing, forgetting the buzz of the world for a moment.

It was two days since John said that he´ll move back in with him. Right now he was on his way to pick up his stuff from Mary´s and his place, after a long night talk with her and Sherlock in the men´s apartment.

She seemed very understanding, nice and, if Sherlock understood it rightly, happy for both of them.

But even with his violin in his hands and his feet on the wooden floor that he walked across so often, he felt a bit like a stranger.

Everything that was his, or most of the things were thrown away (like his very important eye experiment he was working on for months, which if he now thinks about it, he should have taken with him), given to charity or were kept by John, as a memory.

John... Sherlock thought about apologizing to the man. Lately he couldn´t think about anything else but no matter how hard he tried he just couldn´t find the right words. Everything that came to his mind was just not enough.

John Watson was the first person Sherlock seemed to finally understand. He understood that he was hurt but at the same time he was happy about the detective coming back. He even agreed to getting onto new cases and-

The creak of the door snapped Sherlock out of his trance. He hoped it was John who came back from Mary´s. It was almost night and he still didn´t come back, which was unusual for him. Was it worry he felt for John? Never mind, the person who came through the door wasn´t Watson but Sherlock’s brother, Mycroft.

“What do you want Mycroft?”

“Loving as always, aren´t you, Sherlock?”

The detective put his instrument and slumped down into his chair. “So, what do you want Mycroft?”

“How do you know that I want something from you?”

“Do you really want me to point out the obvious? Your clothes are crinkled, your stubble isn´t shaved, which means you didn´t put in the effort to look like a decent human being throughout the last couple of days, and today you probably had to leave in a hurry, which is why you look like this. You breathe more quickly than normally, and since you didn´t run but took a taxi which” - he looked out of the window - “is waiting for you outside, you are probably worried about something. No. Some _body._ And you need my help.”

Mycroft sighed and went to the window, looking out on the rainy sky of London. “Yes, you´re right and I don´t want to play games with you as the matter is serious. We believe Greg was kidnapped by somebody of Vladislaw Biryukows band. He was close to finding out his hiding spot and yesterday when he went off to buy some coffee...” Mycroft turned around and just now Sherlock realised the man´s glassy eyes, his worried face. “Did you two?”

“It doesn´t matter now, but what matters is that an hour after Greg went missing, a number sent me a message.” Mycroft took out his mobile and threw it to Sherlock.

 

“ **When you are about to make mistakes,**

**to give us a thing you can´t replace**

**the one thing that can hurt so much...”**

 

_Rhymes,games... Can it be it´s... Impossible, he shot himself in the head he´s definitely dead._

“It ends mid-sentence?”

Mycroft nodded. “The only thing that let us catch Vladislaw was the fact that he didn´t change his mobile phone. We tracked him down and caught him but he won´t tell us where Greg is.”

Sherlock scoffed. “What an amateur.”

Holmes stood up from his chair and straightened his back. “Ok, take your taxi, I´ll be there soon after you.” The detective was about to disappear behind the door to his room, when Mycroft yelled after him.

“What is it Mycroft?”

“Thank you.”

 

 


	7. The Explosive Love, The Destructive Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When you are about to make mistakes,  
>  to give us a thing you can´t replace  
>  the one thing that can hurt so much,  
>  the explosive love, the destructive touch"

“So, this is Vladislaw Biryukow?”

 

Sally nodded. Even she, who normally despises Sherlock, was happy to see him that day. The whole police station was working like crazy. People shouting through phones, talking to other people and digging through tons of papers just to try and find something, anything, that would somehow help them find a trace to Greg.

“You can go and do your deducing thing on him.Sherlock? Please, get something out of him.”

He popped the collar of his shirt up and said: “I´ll find a trace.” before opening the door.

Vladislaw sat on a wooden chair, his legs propped up on the interrogation table, his nose still bloody, probably from a punch when he was brought here.

“I not telling you anything.” said Vladislaw, his thick Russian accent making it hard to understand him.

“You don´t have to.”

The fact that the man´s English wasn´t great already showed that he moved here recently, maybe even just for the purpose of his Mafia gang. His dirty clothes and strange smell point out that he was hiding for numerous days. His golden Rolex was expensive but had marks of being used, probably even a gift from somebody. But the fact that he didn´t change his phone nor his clothes speaks against the man being some high class animal in the mafia industry...

“Who hired you?”

“Me not hired, I work for me.”

“No, you don´t work for yourself but for someone else but who? It has to be somebody who has connections and faked your identity so you looked like a person with power. You´re no more than a simple henchman who obeys his boss for money and gifts.” at that Sherlock pointed at the man´s wrist. “You aren´t Vladislaw either. Apparently nobody in this bloody police station is able to use its archives and compare two faces with eachother. You are definitely not Vladislaw Biryukow.”

The man was obviously uncomfortable, and afraid, his chest raising and falling quickly, as he fumbled with his watch. “What you talking about?”

“So who is he? It is a _he,_ isn´t it? Come on, tell me, and maybe, just _maybe_ you won´t end up in the same prison as him.”

The man just turned his face from Sherlock. “No. He kill me. If I tell he kill me.”

“Then just tell me-” Holmes´ phone started ringing. At that Vladislaw, no, the man who pretended to be Vladislaw looked up and smirked, his confidence back all of a sudden.

“Is message from person you love?

_What? It can´t be..._ **One new message: John Watson.**

For the first time in a long while anxiety overcame Sherlock as he opened the text message.

The man looked away from him. “I not tell you anything. He kill me. When he knows he kill me.”

“Then tell me “- Sherlock’s phone started ringing. It was a text message from John.

Suddenly the man looked up and smirked. “Is message from person you love?

How could he know? Unless... Sherlock opened the message and read it.

“ **the explosive love, the destructive touch**

    * **M”**




“What does it mean?” Sherlock raised his voice. “Who is paying you?”

The man just chuckled and sang “The thing I have say is: Wilkinson Street Six or Miles Street twenty, who will survive who fly in pieces plenty?”

Sherlock ran out of the room, past the cubicles, past the crowds of police men and before he could reach the door he bumped into Sally. “So, have you got something out of him?”

“It´s a bomb. Someone is playing with Mycroft and me, they took Greg because of Mycroft, and John because of me. Someone wants to hurt us and both, Greg and John, are connected to a bomb,if we don´t reach them in time-” The whole world was spinning. John. What will happen if John- no. It´s not a possibility.

“Calm down Sherlock, it will be alright, we will find them. Did he tell you where they are?”

“What? Yes, yes. Wilkinson Street 6 or Miles Street 20, I think that one is empty and one is with them. We have to go.”

 

* * *

 

They walked out on the pavement, behind the police cordon on Miles Street 20. A second team was on it´s way to Wilkinson Street.

Sally walked out of the building, a big smile on her face. “It is an apartment. Someone bought it two years ago and recently moved back in. A team is defusing the bomb, Greg´s fine, everything is okay.”

Mycroft sat down on the stairs and cradled his face in his hands. “He will be alright,” he said, laughing and crying at the same time, “he will be alright.”

Sherlock would try to be happy about it but as long as John wasn´t save and in his arms... “Wait, Greg? What about John?”

Sally turned to Sherlock “He´s not in there, he´s probably at Wilkinson Street. The team is almost there.”

A voice came out of her voice radio.”Sergeant Donovan, we are about to enter the building.”

Sherlock heard screams of joy from inside the apartment. They defused the bomb. At the same time a loud explosion came out of the radio. Sally dropped it on the pavement, surprised by the noise, but she picked it up. “Hello? What the hell happened?! Rickson are you there?”

“Look” said a police officer and pointed at the sky.

A big grey cloud was rising into the air, somewhere from Wilkinson Street.

_But why? How could it be, everything was alright,unless... Stupid. How could I be so stupid **“...who will survive, who fly in pieces plenty?”** They said from the start that one will die and I missed it.._

 

It was his fault. His mistake. The one time he could not be wrong, he was. Sherlock didn´t notice that he was crying or that he was lying on the ground, or that people were gathering around him, Mycroft with Greg in his arms, a police officer, Sally yelling his name... and then darkness.

 

* * *

 

When Sherlock woke up in his room, the first thought that popped in his head was: He is dead. John Watson is dead and will never be there to kiss him, to touch him, to make him laugh. Nobody will be there to help him with a case or to go grocery shopping. His last words were: “I´ll be right back Sherlock. Don´t worry.”

Maybe he should just die too? Just give up, let go and die. Be happy with John but as he turned around he saw a buquet of flowers on his table, from Mrs. Hudson with the message that she´s there for him, from Greg and Mycroft, even from Molly. People were still there for him but the only person who could fully understand him wasn´t.

To maybe get his mind a break he turned on the TV. BBC News. But even then, like an annoying ghost, that day haunted him as they talked about “Yesterday´s bombing and preparation for new terror attacks”. He even saw himself being driven away by an ambulance before a picture of John popped on the screen.

In that moment Sherlock felt as if his heart was being squeezed and pierced through with needles, and his lungs felt like filling up with water.

The news lady talked about how everybody was mourning and crying and Sherlock might do that as well. He could scream, cry, punch something but all he does is stare blankly on the Tv, his words only a quiet whisper. “I am sorry, John Watson.”

Tired of life Sherlock just wanted to close his eyes and stop existing, but as a familiar face popped up on the screen, repeating four words in a high pitched chant, he left them open, afraid of what might happen next.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its over. I hoped you enjoyed it. It was the first fanfic I´ve written and I hope my writing has improved since then. If you like Marvel then check out my other fics and stay tuned for a new Marvel Universe Project including characters from the comics and the mcu.   
> \- Sam


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